Loquimini Ad Cor
by RamblingsOfaFanQueen
Summary: Its been sixteen( ) years since the fall of Voldemort and everyones lives changed. Harry has become a raging workaholic in the auror department at the Ministry of Magic and his boss, Kingsley Shacklebolt, has ordered him on a new mission that, at first glance seems like vusy work, but will truly change the rest of his life. AU, Angst, Eventual Smut, Etc.
1. Campo De Fiori

Harrys head had barely lifted from the now, sweat covered wood, before he heard Kingsleys voice thundering through his fireplace. He let out a low groan as he adjusted himself and wiped the fresh sleep from his puffy eyes. "Yes Minister?" he answered as he mosied over towards the warmth. "Meet me in my office in two minutes, i have a case of interest for you."

'Case of interest,' that seemed to be an overstatement. Harry thought to himself as he left the Ministers office. It was only an unregistered aura, nothing deserving too much attention certainly. It wasnt negative either. Kingsley must think he needs a break of sorts. Hed only been pestering him about it for months now. Harry blew a curl out of his eyes as his frustration simmered further under his skin. There wasnt much that he could do, other than go of course. Hell, it could be worse. Rome was actually rather beautiful.

The early morning sun peaked through the colosseum walls shining into his eyes. Hed spent the last 8 hours scouring its concaves and ruins, tracking for any type of magical signature, yet he found none. His agitation climbed just as furiously as the sun. He tried, to no avail, to calm himself. Kingsley surely wouldnt send him on a pointless hunt, even if it was because he needed a vacation from all the overtime hed been putting in. He wiped away at his half lidded eyes, letting out a harsh sigh when he heard the angry growl of his abdomen. Surprised he still had an apetite he figured he might as well pack up and eat.

A sunrise on the city of Rome was much like a pastel painting. One where warm colors melted into the earthy tones of the rubbled buildings. The cold blues danced behind the silk like morning fog that was quickly fading. He had forgotten the hidden beauties around the world, it made him miss his art.

As he made his way through the streets he saw the Campo De `Fiori sign overtop a street market like festival. As he came closer he saw children in rag like clothes and bare feet wearing dim faces as they gazed up to the market people. The shop owners standing behind fresh fruit and foods stands were eagerly conversing with customers as others tried desperately to gather their children behind the stands. They all wore tired and worn out faces, dim and sweat soaked even in the bright morning sun. He approached a stand selling pomegranates and other fruits and kindly pointed to the large red fruit to purchase. The markets woman smiled and bagged up three pomegranates as he collected the money to pay her.

Suddenly all of the surrounding children ran towards the fountain at the back of the market place where a guitar strum sounded off. Harrys head turned towards the beautiful noise and was greeted with a voice. "Lui ha un cuore cosí puro-" flustered by the sound he grabbed a handful of money from his wallet pouch, trading it for the fruit. The woman tried eagerly to give him his change but he was already making his way to the crowd.

"Scomettoche ha fiori crescente tra le-" the voice continued and he could feel something crashing into him. Not physically, but emotionally. A wave washing over him and cleansing him. He eyed around the square and noticed all the people. Some dancing, swaying, and some just standing. But they all wore smiles now. Rose painted cheeks and grin lines shown from each persons face. "Oro liquido nelle vene" the voice crashed through him again. His auror instincts went into over drive. He had to know what this was, what was happening. "Loquimini ad cor" he spoke out softly.

He listened to the guitars rhythm as he waited for the next lymric, still trying desperately to make his way towards the melody. "I bet his lips taste like the suns warmth and his hands feel like home" came the soothing voice and Harry froze. At this point he could only see the tip of the man, it was a straw like hat. "Hes a god in human form but ive got a corrupted soul this dark heart would fade away in his light" Harrys heart raced as he felt the song ending. He needed to see his face. He needed to know that voice. He began zig zagging through the crowd as politely as he could. "And a god.." the voice broke through again. Harry could see his shoulders, the hat covering his face. He quickened his pace. "Shouldnt fall with a devil" the last lyric echoed in his head as the guitars last stroke echoed through the dispersing crowd.

Harry tried furiously to fight through the crowd, dropping his bag of fruit and all. As he finally found himself at the end of the crowd he fell to he knees of exhaustion and desperation. Because there before him stood only a fountain and the ghost of the song that was sung.


	2. Et Infirmus Manu Mea

Loquimini Ad Cor (pt2)

Harry takes the keys from the desk clerk, leaving behind a generous tip for agreeing to the secrecy clause. Merlin knows what Rita or any other news writer would make of his trip. Making his way up the spiral staircase he found his floor and began search the hall for room number ninety-four. Once inside he admired the rooms charm. While the hotel on the outside looked like a common rathole, the inside was immaculate. He smiled with the constant reminder of just how beautiful magic could be. His eyes graced over the crimson and gold threaded couch and he felt a smile begin to tug at the corner of his mouth. He dropped his luggage in the master bedroom, which was also beautifully adorned in crimson. He made his way lazily to the fireplace to summon Kingsley.

"Harry? Is everything alright?" Kingsleys deep voice was laced with worry as it echoed through the room. "Im fine," Harry started, trying to put his worry to rest immediately. "I'm actually calling to see if i could call in some of my vacationing days?" Harry was hardly able to finish his request before he saw a smile cross Kingsley's lips. "You're actually going to take some time to yourself?" he nearly shrieked in taunting excitement knowing it would bug Harry, but he picked up on the hint of inquisition in his voice and smiled. "Well actually-" "Ah!" Kingsley cut him off seeming to know the unspoken words and shook his head a bit in a disagreeing yet 'i knew it' type of way. "Harry you need time," he started and Harry prepared for the same lecture he'd heard time again and bowed his head. Kingsley let out a sigh before he continued, "don't worry about the vacation days, just do me a favor?" he said, gaining a curious look from Harry. "Promise you'll take some time for yourself afterwards?" Harry couldn't help the smile that overtook his face as Kingsley bid him a safe farewell and disappeared.

What now? Harry thought to himself. Deciding to stay had been less of a decision as an impulse he had to see the man again, to know him. His cheeks began to flush at the thought and of how much he still acted on such impulses and even more on one that was shoving him towards a man he'd never met. Letting out a heavy sigh, he decided to think it over more after a nap.

It was after six and the sun had began to set on the horizon when Harry made it out of the hotel. He lost himself in the colors for a moment before the strum of a guitar awoke his inner hunger for the sound. Looking down each side of the street before him he casted a nonverbal sound cancelling spell in order to identify the sounds origin. He sped towards it quickly only to find more than twenty smiling faces crowding the sound in an alley much like the one hed just left.

Before he could react he felt his insides begin to unwind and fill with some sort of warm and airy substance that left his face warm and smiling as he moved closer to the beautiful sound. There he was. The same man indeed. As if the sound of his voice wasn't enough for Harry to identify. He was sitting against the alley wall with his hat covered head looking down at his guitar and obstructing the view of his face. Harry's eyes began to roam the rest of him and landed on the satchel by his side. It was covered in what looked to be stamps and patches from all over the world. Taking a closer look he noticed the glass neck of a bottle poking outside of the satchels large pocket. It wore a sort of bat shaped sigil.

He found his focus fleeing from him and landing on the man's fingers that were making deft work of the guitar strings. His voice felt like fire and ice roaring together in a chaotic and inspiring combination. The guitar in his hands was acoustic. Not expensive looking but made of a beautiful light wood that looked to have undergone some custom carving. It was exquisite. He struggled again as his eyes continued to betray him and landed themselves the mans hands. Then his arms and how the rags he wore strained against his slight muscle when he moved a certain way. Then they were traveling to the man's abdomen and all of a sudden there was a heat washing over Harry that made his face light up brighter than the sun.

"aurea puer ad cor indignos spoliari.." the man's voice shot through Harry's veins leaving him to catch his breath. The heat grew strong as his lyrics continued and Harry couldn't focus long enough to cast the translation spell this time. His blood was getting warmer by the minute, not in a painful way but definitely one that was unfit to happen in the middle of a crowded alley and to the response of a stranger. His cheeks and ears reddened further at the thought. He had to get away.

His body fought desperately against his will until he finally made it back to the hotels door. He sped to his room ignoring the clerks questioning looks, and immediately collapsed onto his bed once inside. His mind began to race until he noticed a struggling pain from his groin and let out an irritated growl by his body's final betrayal. Sure, hed known he had a thing for blokes, itd been no secret,but he didn't even know him. How could a random voice and a pair of ha-. He started to think but immediately cut his thought as his pain worsened. He let out a heavy sigh and gave into the thought of a shower. He wouldn't be able to do anything else productive at this rate.

The hot jets of water did nothing to calm him as his mind conjured up ghost hands that began to roam his body. A moan escaped him as he let into the fantasy. He imagined the singing voice in his ear as he grinded into his conjured magic. Feeling the hands hed admired so closely against his skin, pleasing him, needing him. He was already terribly close when suddenly the heated jets turned icy causing him to lose himself in an agonizingly overwhelmed moan.

Panting he wrapped his lower body in a towel and made his way back to the bed. Still panting from his release he gazed at the ceiling noticing its cream colored bleakness. Lifting himself onto his elbows releasing a sigh he grimaced at his predicament. Reaching for his wand on the night stand he gave it a wave and smiled at the materials that appeared before him.

Shades of brown met shallow tones of muted gold and bold reds as he stroked his brush over the canvas. His smile had refused to leave his lips as he poured into his art again. It came back so naturally and free flowing it made him unbelievably happy to note. His strokes widened as they met the canvases edge where the yellow faded to white. He dropped the brush into his cup as he heard the familiar knock at his door.

"Room service" the voice rang into the room as Harry opened the door and motioned him to enter. He wheeled the cart over in front the daybed and returned in front of Harry. Before speaking again he gazed across the room at the portrait "Wow, that's amazing" he noted as Harry's cheeks flushed a bit. "Uh- thanks" He replied rubbing the back of his neck. "Im serious,"the man noted before adding "you should look into selling,or atleast hanging a few." and with that he took his leave leaving Harry smiling in the doorway.

He looked back at his painting as he closed the door and walked back towards it. Crooking his head to the side he casted a hanging charm on it to the nearest wall. He raised his hand to grace over the painted guitar chords until his fingers met the painted set and a smile crossed his face again.


	3. In Case You Didn't Know

That isnt straight at all! Harry lectured himself silently with judgemental eyes firmly fixated on his latest painting floating in midair. His eyes began to water in a failed attempt to fix their dryness from lack of sleep. Letting out a frustrated huff he dropped his wand in exchange for the painting.

Bringing it to eye level he admired the dry paint for what was surely the millionth time that week. It was a bleached out sihlouette with an overbearing glow from the sun behind it. It was beautiful, much like the others surrounding it. Each one a different style, method, or technique, but all the same. Beautiful and of him.

He raised the canvas up to its respective hanging position as he began to hum an all too familiar rhythm. Sleep deprived and hazily rocking from side to side, he hardly looked to be an auror of sixteen years.

In fact, he looked much older than his own thirty-four years, he looked to be atleast ten years further. He had allowed his facial hair to grow without worry and his mangled mess of hair go unbrushed for what looked to be his entire life. If he were being honest with himself, he looked just as physically obsessed as he was mentally.

Straightening the portrait once more for good measure he stepped back to get a better look. His eyes scanned over hands, legs, arms, silhouettes, and guitars spanning the walls of his spacious flat rental. Each one bringing its own frustratingly unique smile across Harry's lips.

He took the moment to think back on each captured memory and encounter. Stretching his arm out to gently graze the oil painting of the satchel hed done shortly after his first encounter. He focused on the stamp that had the Eiffel Tower on it.

He allowed his fingers to drag and explore each piece as he grazed the walls entirety, only managing to stop once he reached the adjoining wall. His eyes slowly crept their way over to the lonely painting in the middle of the mass. It was his favorite by far. Its length stretched nearly the entire wall while its width was a mere two and a half feet.

His eyes roamed over the details in the painting. First meeting the intricate cross hatching on the mans hat. Then spreading to the delicate pink fleshtone beneath the hats rim where the sun had hit his skin one too many times. His hand rose instinctfully to carress the white scar that stood out so prominently that it nearly glowed off his collarbone nearing his neck.

Harrys breathing hitched as his hand wandered down the collar of the painted shirt, knowing the heat he felt beneath them was a figment of his overactive imagination. Even so, as the music replayed from his memory, a shockwave shot through his spine and the rest of his body. His dream had been so vivid and his memory had taken pleasure in tormenting him with that little fact. It had been so mercilessy beautiful.

The sun had started to rise on the founatins landscape and caught him in the most glorious way possible. His lyrics engraving themselves into Harrys mind, filling his soul to the brim with warmth and happiness as he felt himself move closer to the tune. The only difference this time was the lyrics. Not only had it been new song and tune but itd also been a new language, English.

His hand had met the softly shaded guitar strings as the lyrics passed through his lips. "You had my heart a long long time ago. In case you didn't know. You've got all of me I belong to you. Yeah, you're my everything. In case you didn't know I'm crazy bout you, I would be lying if I said. That I could live this life without you."

The words melted his heart but crushed his spirit as he saw tears hit the guitar. The man was crying as he poured out his soul to the crowd before him and not a single person seemed to take notice. But Harry did. He would just stand there, no matter how beautiful it was and how easily he could happily drowned in the sound. He needed to know this man and the pain that haunted him.


End file.
